“No,” said Anthony. “Not of me. Never. Leonard Puckett doesn’t envy anyone.”

“Of course he does. Everyone envies someone. Even Virginia Woolf! She envied Katherine Mansfield.”

“She did? I didn’t know that.”

“She did. It was a whole thing. I wrote a paper on it. Anyway, look at your father: he had all this commercial success, but then you came along and wrote, essentially, the Great American Novel.”

Anthony shifted uncomfortably. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he said.

“No, really. A Room Within is amazing.”

“Thank you,” said Anthony. “I really appreciate that, I do. But then I went and did that stupid thing, and ruined all of it.”

It had been a really unwise thing to do, Lu agreed. “Why’d you do it?” she asked. “You’re so talented on your own.”

Anthony took a long time to answer. Finally he said, “It was a bad time for me. A real low point. I didn’t—I didn’t have my head on straight. I’m just starting to feel like I do now, a little bit. Don’t judge me. I mean, if you can help it.”

“Don’t worry,” Lu assured him. “I don’t judge anyone.” This was untrue. She judged Nancy. She’d judged the heck out of Jessica. She judged careless food bloggers who didn’t test their recipes enough before publishing them. But she wouldn’t judge Anthony. She needed a friend, and he was turning out to be a good one. She wasn’t going to judge her way out of that. “Also,” she said, “I have my own secret. Want me to tell you?”

Anthony’s eyes grew wide. “Of course,” he said. Lu lifted her wineglass, took a generous sip, and told Anthony everything about Dinner by Dad. Everything. The talking felt invigorating and purifying, like the middle stage of a juice cleanse, and when she was done Anthony said, “Wow. Holy cow. I can’t believe it. I’m so impressed! I’m going to go home and read all of your posts.”

Lu was secretly delighted, and also scared. A writer like Anthony Puckett reading her posts! “You don’t have to read all of them,” she said. “That would take you a while. I’ve been doing it for two years. Don’t tell Joy, okay? Maggie doesn’t know. Nobody knows. Really! I’ve never told anybody the whole story, except for you, right now.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” said Anthony. “Scout’s honor.”

“Were you a Scout?”

“Never.”

“Me either.” Lu’s mother hadn’t been around to drive Lu and her sister to afternoon activities, so they’d been limited to those that took place at school.

“Wait,” said Anthony. “Your husband doesn’t know?”

She shook her head. “No. He— I can’t tell him. He has . . . a very firm idea of how things should go. And this isn’t in his plan.”

Anthony nodded. “Okay,” he said. Then: “To secrets,” lifting his seltzer can.

Lu raised her wineglass. “To secrets.” They tapped, and they smiled at exactly the same time, and Lu felt like she’d found something she hadn’t even really known she’d been missing.